He was evidently a privateersman all over, and his view of the matter was that he had only met with a disaster in the regular line of his business.
Morgan's thoughts were running in another direction.
"Your armament's heavier than ours," he said, after a sharp survey. "Lyme was right, poor fellow! Our only chance was to board."
"Perhaps it was," said Ellis. "We've two nines and three sixes on a side. Our pivot-gun's gearing broke, and she's no good. Thirty-two, though. The Lynx is an old Indiaman. She's a little heavy, but she's a good sailer. We cut up your spars a little?"
The sailors of the Noank were already examining her damages. Three more of her crew had been killed and two wounded in the short, sharp fight. Six Englishmen killed and seven more hurt out of forty told how severely the odds had been against them.
During the first few moments of noise and confusion, while the other sailors were rushing hither and thither upon their very pressing duties, Up-na-tan and Coco had been kneeling by Guert.
A pike-thrust in his right thigh, a slight sword-cut on his left shoulder, a bruise upon his head, told for him that he had been in the very front of the fray.
"Both cut cure up quick," said Up-na-tan, as he bandaged the wounds. "Boy no die. Ole chief glad o' that. Take him home to ole woman."
From the Ashantee came nothing but an apparently gratified chuckle.
Their first work was to get him back upon the Noank and into a bunk in Captain Avery's cabin, by Morgan's especial direction. All the other wounded, on both sides, were well cared for. Then there was a short, sorrowful hour given to sea funerals, and all the dead were buried in the ocean.